Family Hodgepodge
by Frisk15
Summary: An assortment of (un-)related stories centering around the family and daily lives of Steve McGarrett and Danny Williams / Another cautious step into McDanno territory / Written for H/C Bingo Round 6 / Non-Bingo stories as well
1. Tiny Terror

Written for Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 6, this fills my _washing/bathing someone_ square. 

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Bathing a small critter should prove to be a piece of cake for a Navy SEAL.

* * *

TINY TERROR

Steve's had enough. He is a Navy _SEAL_ for crying out loud, and he will not be ... the limb escapes his grasp, and he swears. Under his breath, but very intently. The next moment he finds himself on his butt, well, on his _back_ actually, staring at the ceiling and wondering what just happened.

A sound off to his left makes him whip his head around. "Oh no, you don't!" Twisting his body just so, he manages to kick the door shut, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction. Keeping his eyes on his prisoner, Steve lunges, arms out wide, and comes up with nothing but empty air.

"What the ...!"

Quick. He's _very_ quick. And agile too, Steve mentally adds, as the lithe body just basically _slithers_ between his legs. He'll have to change his game plan.

"OK you. Come _here_!" Steve barks in his most authoritarian voice, his muscular 6'1" imposing frame standing ram-rod straight. " _Now_ !" He waits, arms akimbo, tapping his foot impatiently. And waits. Nothing. Even his trained eyes can't make out too much in the semi-dark room, and his straining ears can't make out ... _wait_ ... a small sound off to his right ...

Steve tiptoes in the direction of the sound, then almost _yelps_ as something solid impacts with his shin, catching him by surprise. Which doesn't, which _shouldn't_ happen because, yeah, because of the SEAL thing. But there you have it.

Turning around, he scans the furthest corner of the room and sees movement. "OK, you know what? I'm tired of playing games," he casually states as he advances towards the space between the cupboard and the wall. Peering into the shadows, he can barely make out a tiny figure. How the _heck_ did he manage to wedge himself _in_ there anyways?

Advancing slowly but surely, this time Steve's prepared as the body suddenly shoots from the tiny space, and he manages to grab two limbs, a third flailing out and catching him solidly on the jaw. "Ouch! Hey, that _hurts_ you know!" he grumbles while holding on to his prize.

Incredibly, it takes every effort to hold on to the small body, which is still fighting, still almost on the verge of wriggling out of Steve's grasp as he moves towards the full tub. "Stop it! You're getting bathed, like it or not!" The tiny figure in his arms starts struggling in earnest now, and he really, _really_ needs to do his best to hang on and ...

" _Ouch_! Dammit ... did you just _bite_ me?!"

Momentarily distracted by both the painful sensation in his arm and something which registers as Danny's voice - an obviously _very_ displeased Danny shouting _'_ What the _hell_ is going on up there?' from the direction of the kitchen - causes Steve to lose his balance and fall backwards into the tub, sloshing water all over the bathroom floor.

"Great!"

However, despite the fact that he's now soaked to the skin - and he really should've heeded Danny's warning that it would be better to just wear boxer shorts and nothing else - Steve has managed to retain his hold on the small body, now squirming against his chest.

Sighing, admitting partial defeat, he readjusts his hold and manages to free one hand to grab the bottle of shampoo standing on the edge of the bathtub. Flipping open the cap with one thumb, he sniffs, then recoils at the strong and _very_ sweet strawberry odor assaulting his olfactory sense.

"Sheesh, Danny ... are you _kidding_ me?"

Shaking his head, Steve squirts a generous dollop of the stuff onto the wet hair, puts back the bottle and gently but firmly starts to work up a lather. The tiny body emits a soft, pathetic mewl which tugs at his heart strings, but then he strengthens his resolve, thinking about his sore shin and painful arm.

"Whimper all you want, you're getting _cleaned_."

Sensing most of the fight has now left his tiny prisoner, Steve quickly proceeds to work in the shampoo, then rinses it off by scooping several cups of water from the tub, ignoring the spluttering sounds. After most of the suds have been removed, he carefully clambers out of the tub, then sets the small body on the bath rug, scrutinizing it.

The dark, wet curls look clean, and the dirt appears to have been completely removed.

"Mission accomplished," mutters Steve, then looks up as the bathroom door opens.

"Holy _crapsicles_! Did you launch a _boat_ in here?" Danny's face wears an incredulous look as he turns towards Steve, hands on his hips. "Really, Steven. This place looks worse than if I'd let him bath by himself. What happened?"

Grunting something underneath his breath, something which most likely is _totally_ inappropriate in the company of a three year old toddler, Steve manages to worm his way around Danny, leaving wet patches and hand prints all over his clothes. He shoots him a parting, disdainful look.

"What ... what was that? That _look_? Steven!"

Danny stares at the muscular back of his husband stripping off his drenched t-shirt on his way to the bedroom, then sucks in his breath as Steve drops the wet shirt on the floor of the landing.

"You're picking that up, you know."

Steve looks over his shoulder, shooting Danny another, nearly scornful look.

"Hey, McGarrett, enough with the looks already!" Danny glances at the small, wet body still standing on the bathroom rug, then turns and huffs at the small scowl on Steve's face. "You know, I _carried_ him for nine months; the least you can do is _clean_ him! After all, he takes after _you_!"

Steve pops his head back out of the bedroom, stares at Danny for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Like you said, Danno, I make a mess of things. Next time, _you_ bathe our son!"

And with that, he disappears. Danny frowns, then turns around to look at their tiny, bedraggled looking son again. Wrapping a large towel around the small form, he hunkers down and stares into the blue-green eyes, so reminiscent of his husbands.

"So, young man, did you do like I asked and give your Pops a hard time?" he softly asks.

The small head nods vigorously, wet curls bobbing above the serious looking eyes.

"Good boy!" Danny whispers in the small ear, and grins as he hugs his son.

" _Very_ good boy!"


	2. Squirt

Written for Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 6, this fills my _motion sickness_ square.

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squirt /skwərt/ - 1. a thin stream or small quantity of liquid ejected from something; 2. _slang_ a young or small person

* * *

SQUIRT

"Did you remember to give Kieran his medicine?" The question is matter-of-fact, Danny expecting nothing more than a positive response. He continues to take in the view rushing by outside the passenger window, when he suddenly realizes the expected response remains sorely lacking.

Frowning, he turns. "Steven?"

Said individual's face, scrunched up and carrying an outright _guilty_ look, in combination with the nervous biting of the lower lip tell him all he needs - but really doesn't want - to know.

"Oh shit! Please, _please_ don't tell me that you forgot."

When his remark is met with more silence and nervous lip biting, Danny groans, then turns and looks back at their son, peacefully asleep in his car seat. Facing Steve again, his face is set in the _You-better-explain-things-right-the-fuck-NOW!_ look Steve has come to dread. There's going to be a full-blown Danny Williams tantrum in 3-2-1 ...

"So what - and I'm very curious to the answer you're going to give me - have you been doing this morning while you were supposedly out _buying Dramamine_?!"

There's a dangerously sharp edge to Danny's voice, and Steve shoots him a furtive glance in order to estimate the amount of trouble he's in. _Crap!_ On a scale of one to ten, this is easily a fourteen. And he knows that anything and everything Danny is about to lay on him - and he has no doubt that the laying-on will be harsh and painful - is his own _stupid_ fault. Well, mostly, anyways. Tightly gripping the steering wheel as if to brace himself for what's coming, Steve stares out at the road, waiting for ... and there it is.

"How in _God's_ name could you forget something that important, Steven?! Huh? Do I need to remind you of our holiday in Jersey, how it took nearly _a week_ to not only clean the rental car but get that _horrible_ smell out of the upholstery as well? Or, hey, remember our little visit to Mamo's relatives, up at North Shore? I certainly do, because the stains left by beets _do not wash out of a white shirt_! A perfectly fine white shirt by the way, an _expensive_ white shirt!"

Danny momentarily stops to supply his lungs with much needed oxygen, and Steve sneaks another glance, taking in the red face, the deep frown hovering above the blue eyes, the pursed lips. He loves his husband, absolutely _adores_ him, and will stand up in court and swear to a herd of judges that Danny Williams is the kindest, most gentle and loving soul he has ever met.

Unfortunately, just like weavers in the Middle East always work in one imperfect thread in their otherwise perfect tapestries to testify to the fact that they're only human, that they themselves are _not_ perfect, whomever is in charge of creating human souls has left a singular imperfection in that of Danny Williams: his rage. And Steve McGarrett usually finds himself the subject of said rage, because, well, because of situations like this.

"Which is why," says Danny, having inhaled enough air to continue his rant, "I am _beyond_ curious as to what reason you will give me for not buying the Dramamine, for forgetting the fact that without said medicine, our day trip to Kahuku Beach - which, in case you forgot, is intended to celebrate our _anniversary_ \- will most likely be either seriously interrupted or completely spoiled by _a puking kid_ ! So please tell me, Steven, before I have an aneurysm because the suspense is _killing_ me!"

Danny notices Steve's hands grip the steering wheel even tighter, and he can barely hear the whispered answer coming from between the clenched jaws.

"Robbery."

"Excuse me, what was that? I think I must have misunderstood, because I swear you mentioned something regarding a _crime_ on a day which - and let me remind you that you were in total agreement on this - we decided would not have _anything_ to do with Oahu's less desirable aspect of society but would be all about _family_." Danny inhales. "So ... what was it you said?"

Steve quickly turns his head to look at his husband, then glues his eyes to the road again, swallowing before he repeats his answer.

"A robbery."

"Sweet _Jesus_ , I think I'm losing my mind! You're seriously telling me that on the one day, the _one_ day in the year that I ask you to refrain from risking bodily harm - either to yourself or others - by chasing suspects, or stay away from anything involving triggers or pulling pins, you actually _got_ _involved in a robbery_?! For crying out loud, Steven! Why? Were they about to steal the last supplies of Dramamine? Because that _better_ be the fucking reason!"

Steve winces at the sarcasm, the acerbic tone of Danny's voice and again wishes he had followed his gut instinct and gone to the pharmacy closest to their home. However, he had wanted to buy Danny some of the sunscreen he knows he likes to use, and gone to the store which he knew carried that particular brand.

He had, in fact, remembered the Dramamine, had actually had it in his _hand_ when he noticed the suspicious behavior of the two men lurking by the counter. They had nervously glanced at both each other and the door all the time, and when he had made out the bulge at the back of the shirt of one of the men, he had instinctively known something was about to go down.

When it did, when one of the men pulled out a gun and pointed it at the woman standing behind the counter, screaming at her to hand over the cash, he had covertly flashed his badge and taken out his own gun, silently motioning for the other customers to look for cover, then cautiously moved towards the front of the store.

It had been quick and easy, both men nearly wetting themselves in fear the moment he had barked out "Five-0, drop your weapons!", dropping first their weapons and then themselves on the floor. The quick thinking owner had called 911 while Steve was securing the would-be robbers, and the whole thing had been over in less than fifteen minutes, Steve relinquishing the case to an HPD detective.

And when he got home, he had been focusing so intently on not giving anything away about his little experience at the drug store, determined not to cause Danny any unnecessary stress on this specific day - because, hey, nothing _bad_ had happened, honestly; he wasn't injured, shit, he hadn't even torn his pants or shirt - that he had clean forgotten about the very reason he had been at the store. And then he was packing the car and simultaneously keeping an eye on Kieran while Danny was inside the house gathering their last stuff, and the Dramamine was pushed even further to the back of his mind.

He's just about to clarify the matter to Danny, gathering up his nerves and explain to him that there really have been extenuating circumstances and it's not _all_ his fault, when a soft moan comes from the backseat. They're both turning their head in concern when Kieran utters a pathetic "Daddeeee ...", and a split second later Steve is hit mid-face by a warm jet of semi-digested matter.

Jerking his head back, Steve barely notices his husband's shocked face as he starts coughing because, yeah, this must be his lucky _day_ , some of his son's stomach contents have managed to end up near - oh and shit, gross, yuck, _Jesus_! - _in_ his own mouth. Spitting, _gagging_ he simultaneously tries to keep the car from veering off the road and ignoring the smell, the _stench_ assaulting his senses.

Blinking, he's trying to see through the warm, icky sludge- and what the _fuck_ has Danny been feeding the kid this morning?! - dripping down his face in order to safely steer the car to the side of the road, so they can do some damage control. Something white appears at the edge of his peripheral vision and, realizing it's a baby-wipe Danny's holding out to him, Steve grabs it and starts scrubbing his face.

When he finally manages to maneuver the car through traffic onto the shoulder of the road, Steve brings the car to a nearly screeching halt - earning him a disdainful look from his husband, but hey, this is an _emergency_ _-_ and then leans back against his seat, staring straight ahead. He's vaguely aware of Danny leaning into the back of the car, continuously muttering under his breath as he starts to clean the mess on and around Kieran, but the whole incident has shocked him into being unable, into _refusing_ to move.

There's stuff covering his shirt, covering his pants, his shoulders, it's in his _hair_ and - so help him God, but this is almost making _him_ ralph - he can even feel some of the ooze slowly trickling down the back of his neck, _into_ his shirt.

When Danny rights himself in his seat again, hand on the door handle to get out and gain access to their now softly whimpering son in the back, Steve slowly turns his head and stares at him.

"Did ... did he actually _aim_ at me? Because I swear he did it on purpose! He was looking straight at me when ... when he ..." Steve can feel the bile rising in his throat, and he desperately swallows it down in order not to follow in his son's footsteps, not to add to the already reeking mess inside the car.

Danny remains silent for a moment, throwing Steve a cold, unforgiving look, taking in the horrified look on his still partially covered face. Then he nods.

"Absolutely. And kudos to the child for being such a smart and intelligent combination of his parents."

The horrified look on Steve's face is replaced by something akin to a mixture of confusion and absolute _disbelief_ at his husband's totally uncaring response.

"Kudos? You think the fact that our child barfed on me, ejected his stomach contents in my direction on _purpose_ deserves _kudos_?! And what the hell do you mean by 'intelligent combination', huh?" Steve is now furiously scrubbing the remainder of the vomit off his face, grabbing more baby-wipes out of Danny's hand as he moves to clean his hair and - oh please, _please_ don't upchuck - the back of his neck.

Danny shakes his head, pursing his lips as he watches the cleaning operation. When Steve glances up again, Danny notices his face looks a little better than before except ... "You missed a spot," he calmly states and points to Steve's right ear. "There's a bit of corn sticking ... yeah, right there." Unfazed, he watches as Steve blanches and wipes off the offending bit of ex-food.

"It's quite simple, really," Danny starts explaining in a soft voice. "He has your superhuman ability to zero in on a target and hit it dead center, as well as my not-so-insignifiant detecting skills." He sighs as Steve raises an eyebrow, still not comprehending. "Meaning, he figured out who is responsible for making him sick and initiated pay-back with, dare I say, _impeccable_ accuracy."

Then, much to Steve's absolute and complete disgust, Danny has the audacity to actually _grin_.

"You know, Steven, from my point of view, this disaster could have been much, _much_ worse." The grin becomes even bigger. "I mean, yeah, I guess I have to clean him, and the smell is pretty off-putting but, imagine that, I still have a _clean shirt_!" And with that he exits the car, only for his head to re-appear above the passenger seat from the back, giving Steve a fat wink.

Steve turns his eyes towards the road again, stunned at Danny's utter lack of compassion. Then he sighs, absentmindedly wiping at his shirt.

The robbery at the drug store had been far easier to deal with.

* * *

It takes a good twenty minutes to clean away most, if not all of the mess in the car. When Steve finally gets out of the car and moves towards his husband and son standing in the grass next to the road's shoulder, Danny silently hands him a bottle of water and the remainder of the baby-wipes to further clean himself.

"There's a drug store on Hospital Road, just before Kahuku Beach if I'm not mistaken. They probably have Dramamine there." Steve throws Danny an inquisitive look. "Unless, of course, you want to go back home ..."

Danny frowns, looks at the small boy in his arms, then back at Steve again. "I think I would like to stick to our original plans. We're over half way there and," he suddenly grins at his husband again, "I'm pretty sure there's nothing left in this little man's stomach, so we're safe. _You're_ safe."

Scowling, Steve throws Danny an irritated look, then looks at his son and feels a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, you're right, let's go on. Wouldn't want to make Kieran miss the opportunity of building his first sand castle." He ruffles a hand through his son's curls, then plants a kiss on top of the child's head. "Come on, kiddo, lets get you back in the car."

Steve plants the child back in his car seat and secures the safety belts. When he turns around, Danny is right there, crowding his personal space. Steve looks into his husband's blue eyes, still filled with mirth at the whole situation. Leaning into him, Steve utters a soft growl.

"You may think this is funny now, but wait until we get back home tonight. I'll have my revenge then."

Danny sniffs at him, then leans back a little to stare up into his eyes. "Not until you've had a long, _long_ shower my friend. Because, honestly? You reek!" With that he winks again and goes to sit down into the passenger seat, careful to avoid Steve's wet and - yeah, still disgusting - smelly shirt.

While Steve walks around the car to take his place behind the wheel again, Danny turns around and looks at Kieran.

"Hey, Squirt," he says, and suddenly knows without a doubt where _that_ term for mini-adults originated. "Feeling any better?" He smiles as the small dark head of his son, fortunately no longer looking green around the gills, moves up and down enthusiastically.

"B'tah."


	3. Darkness is no friend of mine

Written for Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 6, this fills my _loss of vision_ square.

 ***NOTE*** Response to the guest's review finding this 'nauseating' (and yes, I published it, because 'freedom of speech', etc). I don't know _why_ this is upsetting you (personal experience? if so, sorry; or lack of humor? in which case: how sad) but I'm pretty sure nobody is actually forcing you to read this. And different strokes, different folks. Nobody is telling you to like my humor, either. Good thing there are plenty of people who do, though ;-)

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DARKNESS IS NO FRIEND OF MINE

The whispering is making him feel uncomfortable.

No, scratch that, it's making him feel down-right _anxious_ ! For one crazy, dizzying moment he is transported back in time into a much younger version of Daniel Williams, a six year old Danny who has lost his Pa and Ma in the pushing, undulating crowd washing around him and is left to fend with the ghosts and ghouls of the annual fair's Haunted House all by himself.

Danny, his skin crawling with the anticipation of having the _crap_ scared out of him any moment now, tilts his head in the direction the whispering seems to come from, trying to hear the unintelligible, fleeting words, straining to scale up his auditory senses in order to compensate for the fact that he _can't fucking see_!

His carefully outstretched hands unexpectedly end up in something hot and - oh dear lord - _mushy_ , something totally _gross_ and he jerks them back as if burned, feeling the warm substance come with him, _covering_ him, as he recoils from the horrible sensation.

The sudden movement causes him to overbalance and as he tries to correct, tries to keep himself from falling over, arms flailing like a storm-driven windmill, his right foot catches on something soft yet unyielding and he keels over backwards, butt hitting the floor, hard.

As soon as he's down he catches a soft sound, hears something _skittering_ swiftly towards him, and the next moment there's a warm, snuffling breath in his right ear, a soft stream of air which causes his whole body to break out into a full case of goose bumps.

Fear courteously gets up and leaves, making room for outright terror.

 _Oh God help him, this is bad!_

Back peddling on all fours like an overturned turtle, grappling for support but finding nothing but empty space, Danny's throat constricts in its effort to prevent his heart from jumping out and escaping towards a safer place as he hears a soft lapping, no, a _slurping_ sound that is way, _way_ too close for comfort!

Whipping his head around as the slurping sounds stops and - oh please, _no_ \- the skittering sound advances towards him once again, he freezes as another warm breath tickles his left ear, then feels his guts clench tighter than a reluctant virgin bride on her wedding night at the hot and moistly breathed whisper.

"Daaaa ..."

He finally gives in, surrenders to his complete inability to deal with the situation, giving in to the fact that Daniel Williams - he of the staunch character and spotless arrest records - is simply unable to handle this, and _screams_.

"Steven, get your ass down here _right_ _now!_ "

Foot steps can be heard overhead, swift and hurried, and the creaking of the stairs herald the imminent arrival of his husband, his _savior_ coming to his rescue.

"What the hell, Danny!"

Steve draws in a surprised breath, then rushes towards his partner, sprawled on the floor, head tilted in his direction, dark sunglasses askew. Hunching down, he takes off Danny's glasses, checking the bandages. Finding nothing wrong, Steve's hands quickly ghost over the rest of his husband's body and he breathes a sigh of relief at failing to find any obvious injuries.

"OK, up you get."

Supporting Danny into a sitting position first, Steve then grabs him underneath his arms and helps him to stand up, gently steering him towards the couch and lowering him down onto it. Then he frowns as he glances towards the kitchen.

" _Jesus_ , Danny! What in earth's name did you think you were _doing_?"

Steve takes in the mess dripping from the counter, then turns as he senses something swiftly moving towards him and feels it latching onto his leg.

He grins down at his ten month old son who has grabbed his jeans covered leg, straining with the effort to right himself. An identical, pureed carrot covered grin is mirrored on Kieran's face as he stares up.

"Hey there, Sport."

The orange grin becomes even wider.

"Daaa..."

A grumble pulls Steve's attention back to his husband, slumped back into the couch, his face set in an honest to God _sulking_ look which gives Kieran's oftentimes facial expression a run for its money.

"Sport ... now _there's_ an accurate description." Danny huffs. "I swear, Steven, that little rascal has turned sneaking up to me and scaring the _shit_ out of me into an Olympic event! I don't know how much longer I can stand having to live with _two_ creep-as-fuck ninjas in the same household!"

Steve sighs, then plunks down on the couch next to Danny, pulling Kieran up with him. Holding his son in one arm, he slings his other around his husband and hugs him close, planting a kiss on the side of his head. Danny first resists the gesture, then gives in and slumps against Steve's hard, muscular side.

"One more week, Danny, just one more week, and then the bandages will be removed, right?"

Danny sighs, snuggling even closer to his hard-outer-shell-with-gooey-insides and fiercely protective husband. "Yeah, one more week." He tilts his head up towards Steve, frowning. "I still don't get how this all happened, though. I mean, how the _hell_ did that crazy-ass wanna-be drug lord manage to squirt _chemicals_ in my eyes?!"

Steve thinks back to the drug bust, shivers as he remembers the instant Danny had started howling, then dropped to the floor writhing in pain. He had rushed over to aid his husband, vaguely noticing Chin taking out the screaming suspect with a well aimed whack to the head using the butt of his shotgun.

With Kono's help, they had started immediately flushing out Danny's eyes while Chin called for an ambulance, trying to remove as much of the chemicals the man had sprayed in Danny's face. They were still flushing when the EMTs arrived at the scene, and Steve had been reluctant to hand over the care of his husband, sticking to his side, holding his hand as he watched the angry red burns around his eye sockets and prayed Danny would be OK.

"You were lucky, all things considering," Steve whispers into Danny's hair, then pulls back as his blond husband rears up in indignation.

"Lucky? _Lucky_ ?! You call being immersed in total darkness and being continuously accosted and assaulted by sneaking individuals of _all_ ages while trying to pull your weight in a household _lucky_? Let me tell you, my friend, _luck_ has nothing to do with that. It's a sheer, complete, utter and total _hell_ !"

Danny is about to launch a new flood of words when Kieran, an intent look on his face. manages to escape Steve's hold and clambers on top of his other parent. He grabs Danny's face with two pudgy, carrot covered hands and plants a bright orange kiss right on Danny's lips, then sits back to survey his efforts with a proud look on his face.

"Daaa ...no."

Freezing, Danny grabs a hold of his little son, his face becoming utterly still. Then he slightly turns in Steve's direction and whispers in a voice laden with emotion: "Did he just call me _Danno_?"

Grinning like a Tasmanian Devil Steve nods, then realizes Danny can't see him. "Yup, I think our son has just managed to steal both Grace's and mine favorite name for his other daddy." He ruffles Kieran's hair, earning him a carroty smile.

Danny, a tear slowly creeping down from underneath his bandaged eyes, fiercely hugs the little boy.

"I forgive you this time, you terrorizing little McGarrett ninja."


	4. The Art of Dating: ass-backwards

Written for Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 6, this fills my _sex pollen_ square.  
This one's for Kamui Mirai. I hope you were right ... 

* * *

This is not what usually happened when Danny investigated a crime scene. Or how he dated, for that matter. 

* * *

THE ART OF DATING: ASS-BACKWARDS 

He'd always considered it a lack of decorum, an indication of diminished professionalism. Even when temperatures had hit the _Can you believe this fucking heat?_! mark on the thermometer the previous week, he hadn't done so. It stayed where he put it in the morning, not moving an inch, not sliding down a notch, and only came off when he got home at night.

Until now.

Detective Daniel Williams - and the larger portion of his brain just flatly refuses to register the fact, just bows out and detaches itself from this level of absolute _non-_ professionalism - is actually loosening his tie. Is almost _ripping_ it from his throat, to be more exact, because somehow he just can't _breathe_ anymore. Feels as if somebody has snuck up on him and jammed his head into an oven, then turned the knob to the _hotter as hell_ setting.

Yanking it completely loose, the action causes him to stumble against the desk, rattling the pens in the little vase standing on the corner. Watching with a kind of detached feeling, he sees the little vase doing its best to regain its balance, then suddenly adhere to Newton's Universal Law of Gravitation and fall towards the floor, shattering in several pieces.

' _Great, you've just contaminated a crime scene'_ the detached part of his brain scolds him, but is immediately answered by the smaller rebellious part, the part which had screamed _Get rid of the tie!_ and goaded him into said action. _'It's an OLD crime scene, so who gives a fuck!_ '

And that last word is the key term.

 _Fuck_.

Because the overwhelming sense of heat, the feeling of having suddenly been immersed into a hot pool of lava is accompanied, no, _superseded_ by the intense, all-encompassing urge to have some serious, unadulterated and long-drawn-out _sex_! At least, that's the impression Danny gets from the raging hard-on he's been sporting for the last ten minutes or so.

Something niggles at the back of his mind, something which his Captain told him, some warning about a certain _chemical_ which was found at the scene, a warning which barely registered as Danny stomped out of the man's office, pissed off at being the mainland _schmuck_ stuck with an unwanted case - a case that none of his colleagues wanted to touch with a ten foot pole - involving an aging cop who had gotten too close to a pair of arms and drugs dealing Irish brothers, ending up paying the ultimate price for it.

The aforementioned body part squirms in his pants, causing his train of thought to derail and crash.

It's so actively present, so _alive_ , that Danny won't be surprised if it pops out of his pants unaided and starts looking around the room for something to hump; knows with near-certainty that the proverbial goldfish won't just stop swimming in their bowl but will actually _jump out_ of it in fear and skitter away on their fins, screaming in terror once they catch sight of the bulge now straining the front of his pants.

It's _huge_!

A sudden sound manages to penetrate the haze permeating his brain, and the professional part of his mind, the part which was still in total shock from the removal of his tie, determines it comes from what he knows to be the garage.

His straining penis, now apparently having developed a mind of its own - _("Just call me Woody.")_ \- immediately concludes that, if it makes a sound, it's _alive_ , and if it 's alive, it can be _fucked_! and starts pointing in the direction of the garage. "Lead on, Macduff," Danny mumbles, quickly wiping the sweat off his brow, and exits the study.

The gloomy garage first makes it difficult to see, and Danny rapidly blinks to get accustomed to the dim lighting. There's movement by the garage doors, as well as a barely perceived sound - a moan? - and Danny rapidly draws his weapon.

"HPD! Identify yourself!"

A figure slowly steps out from the shadows into the light coming through the open doorway, and Danny's over-active body part - right, Woody - almost _jumps_ out of his pants in sheer joy. The man standing in front of him is _gorgeous_ , and he's _breathing_ \- almost panting actually, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps - and that means he can ...

Danny slams a lid on Woody's now near-audible babbling, trying to keep some semblance of control because hey, this is a potentially _dangerous_ situation, and Danny Williams does _not_ want to be remembered as 'that _haole_ HPD detective who got himself killed because his _dick_ got in the way'. Basically a case of a dick killed by a dick. Nope.

He takes in the long, muscular form of the man - _'Oh my, and look at the way his pants are straining at the front!'_ Woody whispers and he studiously ignores it - and notices the tattoos peeking out from underneath the shirt sleeves, the damp, dark short hair trying to curl at the sides of the taut neck and how the man - his eyes, framed by ridiculous long-ass lashes and the color of a stormy sea - stares at him from underneath half hooded eyelids, dark with some form of emotion.

' _Oohhhhh, let me at'im!'_ Woody begs and Danny moans, resulting in a slight lift of the other man's eyebrow. There's sweat streaming down the other guy's face as well, and he's making small, barely noticeable - except Woody notices, oh yes _Sirree_ \- hopping motions, moving from one foot to the other. Woody again takes control of Danny's visual senses and directs his eyes back to the man's crotch.

 _Dear God!_

Danny almost loses the grip on his gun, his heart speeding up even more and his eyes widening. Another involuntary moan escapes his lips. The man's low, husky voice drags Danny's attention from his nether regions back up to his face, watching his lips move but not quite grasping the words.

"Wha ...?"

Frowning, Danny tries to focus on what the guy is saying, meanwhile flicking his sweat-drenched hair, now falling over his forehead, out of his eyes. The other man's eyes intently follow the hand gesture, like a cat hypnotized by the movement of some small rodent, ready to pounce.

 _('Yesss!' Woody whispers.)_

"Ehm, I said, that ..."

The man's voice hitches as a small tremor runs through his body, apparently causing him to forget what he was about to say. He runs a large hand over his face, a hand made for _holding_ and _grabbing_ and _doing_ things to Danny's body and ...

"It's hot in here."

The man licks his lips, and Danny follows the lazy movement of the pink tongue, running along the bottom of the mouth which is _perfect_ and made for _kissing_ _("And sucking!_ " _squeals Woody)_ and he feels his guts tighten with a powerful feeling of _want_ , unconsciously taking a step forward.

"Yes ... I still need you to fu ... ehm, I mean, still need you to identify yourself."

Danny feels a blush of embarrassment at how he slips up there, fairly certain that it won't show on his already red, _hot_ face, but the way the man's eyes - oh, and those eyes are _gorgeous_ \- narrow he knows he's been caught-out.

"Which one do you need me to do first?"

The husky voice enters his ears, by-passes the logical - _professional_ , dammit! - and now almost inaudible part of his brain and, without so much as a by-your-leave, zooms straight down along his nerves to his crotch, where Woody is busily trying to undo his zipper because he wants _out!_ and then _in!_ and really, _really_ wants to _jump_ straight into the man's beautiful large hands so he ...

Danny swallows, taking another step in the man's direction, and _oh God_ he can smell him, actually _smell_ him, smell the arousal in the man, and it's short-circuiting his brain and destroying that lest vestige of self-control and he suddenly finds himself right on the same page with Woody, who yells _YES!_ as Danny stumbles against the man, falls _into_ the man's muscular arms, which wrap themselves around him like honeysuckle around a tree, and Danny just ceases to think. 

* * *

Danny slowly opens his eyes, then squeezes them tightly shut again at the sensation of the - _('God,' Woody weakly mumbles)_ \- man next to him, _plastered_ all _over_ him like a wet, warm blanket. His dazed mind tries to remember, and then desperately tries to _un_ -remember, because there are sudden, crystal clear images of the man kneeling before him, and flashes of the man - _('God ... oh God,_ _ **definitely**_ _a God!')_ \- bending him over the hood of the old Mercury in the garage, and then they were inside the Mercury and then the man was inside _him_ , his own ass up in the air, and ...

"Hey," rumbles the husky voice into his ear, and Woody desperately tries to pay attention but fails miserably, worn out, _drained_ of every last drop of energy. "You went AWOL there for a while." Lips gently ghost over his ear, sending exquisite shivers down Danny's spine, coiling in his gut and then poking at Woody, who just lies there, trembling, unable to respond.

Rising up at one elbow, Danny stares into the man's eyes - now a hue of emerald green - scrutinizing him as if trying to read his thoughts. "I, eh ... I need to get dressed." Mortified at the situation, he wrenches himself out from underneath the naked body, opening the passenger door and then basically _drops_ out of the back of the car onto the cold, hard concrete floor of the garage.

Desperately glancing around he first spots his pants by the left front wheel and scrambles to get them. As he grabs them off the floor, his eyes catches sight of his boxer shorts, and - oh _God!_ \- how did they end up hanging from the top of the car's antenna?!

He's already yanked on his boxers, now hopping around trying to stick one shaky leg into his pants, when the man unfolds his impressive - and _naked_ \- length from the car, coming towards him, and Danny furiously blushes as he finally manages to get both his legs with the program and is able to pull up his pants. "Shirt," he mumbles to himself, looking everywhere except at the man.

"Over the steering wheel, I think," he hears, and the man bends down through the open window, presenting Danny momentarily with a perfect view of his muscular ass - and Danny wants to shoot a picture of that ass and frame it on his wall - and retrieves Danny's shirt, handing it to him. For a moment their hands touch, and Danny yanks his away as - again! - an electrical current seems to run between the two of them.

A frown appears on the guy's face, then suddenly is replaced by a look which Danny once saw on the face of a four month old mutt in the pound after Rachel told Grace "No!" and they had walked away, looking for their own dog who had managed to escape the house yet again. The mutt had known they weren't going to take it with them, and the sad, desperate realization of being abandoned had been written all over its face, followed by a pitiful, long and drawn-out howl.

"Look," Danny says softly, daring to look up into the man's eyes, his _beautiful_ eyes, "I need to get back to HPD and write a repo..." Realization slams into him, the absolute knowledge that _no way in hell_ will he be able to deliver an account of what happened, or worse, come up with any other plausible reason for having just spent - he looks at his watch, then recoils in shock - _four_ _hours_ at the crime scene.

"Oh Jesus I'm _so fucked_!" he groans, instantly regretting that particular choice of words as the guy's eyes light up and a big - _adorable_ \- goofy grin appears on his face. Danny slumps against the work bench, running a hand through his thoroughly mussed hair. "I can kiss my career goodbye now. Which means I can't pay alimony, which means Rachel will cancel my visitation rights and Grace ..."

Collapsing in on himself, Danny slowly slides down to the ground, then starts bashing his fists against his forehead. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ " Two strong hands grab both his wrists, restraining them in order to prevent him from further hurting himself, and when he looks up at the guy - now hunkered down in front of him, and when the _hell_ did he manage to pull on his _pants_ for Christ's sake - stares into his eyes, an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"Grace, she's your ..."

"Daughter," Danny nods. "And my ex-wife is going to yank visitation rights away faster than you can say _"Told you never to marry a British woman"_ \- (like his mother had actually warned him) - soon as she hears the story of this ..." and he waves around him, "this _thing_ with a complete stranger and I'll never see my little girl again."

There's a non-plussed look on the guy's face, as if he has trouble understanding the situation, so Danny continues to patiently paint him the picture of his imminent down-fall.

"Obviously I will have to tell my Captain - who, by the way, _warned_ me about the air-bound chemicals they found here, chemicals which, well, which apparently had a strange reaction on people - tell him about what ehm, transpired here, which will no doubt hit HPD gossip circuit within one nanosecond and result in all of HPD shunning my _haole_ ass even more and me being out of a job because..."

And he shakes his head, a small giggle escaping his mouth, then continues in a shaky voice. "Because there isn't a cop in this pineapple-infested hell hole who'll be willing to work with a partner who _fucks strange men_ without even asking their name! And how has this become my life, because back in Jersey I'd never, ever ..."

Danny shakes his head, then lets it fall down and draws in a deep, shuddering breath, completely shattered by the ramifications of his encounter in the garage. He should've just declined the job, should've just _run away_ after hearing the Captain say that nobody had wanted to take the case, should've _bolted_ from the crime scene at the first sign of ...

"Steve."

The voice is soft, almost gentle, then becomes firmer, more ... _authoritative_. And _that_ tone gives Danny the shivers and travels down his spine and ... No. Danny hits the breaks right there and then. Just, no.

"Actually, Lieutenant-Commander Steven J. McGarrett, United States Navy." He cocks his head. "So now we're not strangers anymore, at least ..."

Danny sighs. "Detective Daniel Williams, HPD, formerly of Newark, New Jersey. Soon to be formerly of Honolulu PD as well."

They're silent for a moment.

"You mentioned chemicals, _air-bound_ chemicals." Steve says, "I take it that explains ..."

Danny smirks. "Explains the carnal lust and actually _giving in to it_ without even knowing who it is you're fucking." He groans. "God, at least I _hope_ so! Otherwise it was a _very_ intense reaction to having had no physical contact for over a year." He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"You haven't had sex for over a year?"

Steve looks at him, eyebrows raised, a surprised look on his face which causes Danny to huff.

"Yes Mister Tell-Me-Your-Most-Intimate-Secrets, and what's so strange about that? I mean, obviously a man with your looks, with that ... _body_ " and he motions along Steve's body, pretty proud of himself that he manages to keep from drooling, "wouldn't have to do without for that long, but us mere mortals, well ..."

Danny squints up, then feels his breath catch in his throat at the look on Steve's face, a look which - oh dear _Lord_ \- actually, incredibly but true starts to wake Woody again, and that, that is something which Danny _cannot_ handle right now!

"Were you serious about possibly losing your job over, ehm ... over this?"

Danny nods. "Most likely. I mean, they weren't too fond of me to begin with, and if this comes out ..."

"Right," says Steve, suddenly all business-like, then pulls a cell phone out of one of the pockets of his cargo pants, and Danny wonders what else Lieutenant-Commander 'Let's Fuck In The Car' might carry in those pants, and oh _God,_ he realizes that he's definitely been intimate with at least _one_ of the items he hides in there, and then catches on to the conversation Steve is having on the phone.

"... take the job."

Staring at the tall man hovering above him, looking _ridiculously_ at ease in just cargo pants and nothing else, Danny catches him winking at him while listening to somebody ask a question at the other end.

"Let's just say I found something that changed my mind."

Danny's mouth falls open at the implication of Steve's words, and he's just about to protest - and protest _fiercely_ he might add, because being described as 'something' after what they just did, well, that is just too much even for the degraded way Danny is feeling right now - when Steve holds up a hand, causing Danny's jaws to slam shut.

"No no no, _immediately_. I'll transfer to the Reserves and I'll run your task force."

'Task force?' Danny thinks, and he's about to say something again, ask some more questions - because really, he doesn't even _know_ Steve or what he's about, and what the hell is he talking about anyway? - when the man holds up a hand again - and he needs to stop _doing_ that! - and a surprised look washes over his face.

"What? Right _now_ ?!"

And as Danny watches, Steve holds up a hand again - what's with this guy and _hands_! - only this time not to stop Danny and he starts to pledge an oath about 'honor' and 'conscience' and says something that sounds like 'a manner befitting an officer of the law', and that's when Danny looses it and starts giggling, then howling his head off with laughter because, seriously? _nothing_ they had done in that garage was even _close_ to 'befitting an officer of the law'.

Danny is still giggling, leaning against the work bench with tears in his eyes, when Steve looms into his vision again, his head bent down to Danny, looking into his eyes with something which seems a mixture of concern and some anxiety and - oh, the _smug_ son-of-a-bitch - yes, even satisfaction as he places a hand on Danny's arm.

"You don't have to worry about your job with HPD anymore. As of now, you're part of my Task Force."

Frowning, Danny stares at him. "And that means, what exactly? That you have just made a decision in which I have no say-so?"

Steve gives him a dead-pan look. "You got no choice, Detective. The Governor gave me jurisdiction. I'm making you my partner. We're gonna get along great."

Then he winks at Danny again.

"I just _know_ we're gonna get along great!"

Danny groans.


	5. The blood that ties us (I)

***! TRIGGER WARNING !* - This story deals with (the aftermath of) miscarriage, loss and grief. Please do not read if this will cause emotional upset!**

* * *

Written for Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 6, this fills my _grief_ square.

* * *

Another venture into McDanno territory, in which it turns out Danny is not exactly WYSIWYG (What You See Is What You Get)

* * *

THE BLOOD THAT TIES US (I) 

The water is still tinged red, going around the toilet bowl in lazy circles before being sucked down and disappearing. He takes his hand of the flush valve and finds it's shaking. For just one moment he wants to rewind the events of the past hours, wants to be able to just pause and then stop at - or rather, _before_ \- the specific point when he'd realized what was happening.

Wants to fix things, even though he doesn't know how to...

Closing his eyes, he relives the moment he woke up, mind fuzzy, frowning because he didn't understand why he was awake, then gasping at the unexpected pain in his abdomen which caused him to double up. He'd moaned, then felt the wetness between his legs, the sticky sheets.

Throwing back the covers, teeth chattering in shock, he'd caught a glimpse of the dark stains on his bed as he made his way to the bathroom, stopping halfway as another severe cramp turned his legs to jelly.

 _This couldn't be happening!_

He managed to make it to the toilet, then sat down and cried, sobbed in anguish as his body expelled the remnants of the tiny life which had been growing inside him.

And for every subsequent visit to the bathroom that night, another piece of his heart was shredded.

* * *

"Hey, brah. I was already wondering why things were so quiet here this morning." Chin's voice translates the grin which is certain to be pasted on his face, and Danny hangs his head, holding his cell phone away from his ear. Then he swallows and continues to talk.

"Yeah, ehm ... I'm calling to say I won't be in today. I've, eh ... I ate something which doesn't agree with my stomach, and I prefer to do the toilet runs in the privacy of my own home." He feels a blush rise in his cheeks at the obvious lie, glad Chin can't see it.

Chin now sounds concerned. "Will you be OK? Do you need one of us to come over, go to the store?"

Shaking his head, Danny smiles. This is Five-0's _ohana_ aspect that both Chin and Kono refer to so often, the 'family bond' which fuels the incredible and strong team spirit of the task force he joined several months ago.

"No, I'll be fine. I've got everything I need here at the apartment."

They exchange a few more pleasantries _("So you'll be fine?" "Yes." "Sure you don't need anything?" "No, I'm good." "Want me to send the boss over so he can hold your hand?" "If you're interested in a slow, torturous death, then by all means. Otherwise, NO!")_ and then end the call.

Leaning back against the couch, Danny tries to stop the whirlwind in his mind, tries to grab his thoughts one at a time and place them in order.

He remembers the sharp twinge he'd felt a few nights ago when clambering over a fence after Rachel - showing a surprising amount of empathy and some quick thinking - had diverted the attention of the suspects whose house he'd been in, realizes now in hindsight how uncomfortable he'd been running to catch one of the diamond robbing cyclists that next day, opting to shove an object in front of the bicycle rather than using physical force.

He'd thought the vague but annoying cramping pain in his lower back was the result of an inadvertently pulled muscle, had decided the general sensation of feeling' not quite right' had been due to having spent an inordinate amount of time with Rachel, of being there together with Steve ...

 _Steve. Oh God !_

How will he tell him? Does he _have_ to tell him? Should Steve even know that their first meeting in the garage - when both had been under the influence of the weird chemicals John McGarrett had found and then inadvertently released into the house, causing two total strangers to make out like sex-starved junkies in the back of that old Mercury - hasn't been without consequences after all?

Consequences which Steve (and let's be honest, Danny as well) thought were allayed by his impulsive decision to accept the Governor's offer to head a task force, and then deciding - no, _forcing_ \- Danny to become part of said task force. A plan which Danny thought would never work; yet for some strange reason, had.

The four of them coming together - combining their individual skills and characters and backgrounds - resulted in something extraordinary, something so _powerful_ that, months later, they themselves still were taken aback by it. And the relationship between Danny and Steve ...

Well, there hadn't _been_ a relationship to start with. They had agreed to ignore the events in the garage, logic dictating that those memories be erased somehow, and act like nothing had happened. At least, that was their intention. But intention or not, that same day - a day filled with shouting and running and even _getting shot_ \- Danny had caught himself looking at Steve in a manner which was, well, directly spitting logic in the eye.

He'd quickly gone to his apartment to change - seeing how running around in a torn, blood-stained shirt really didn't look all that professional - and then picked up some surveillance material before going over to Steve at the McGarrett house. The moment Danny entered the front door, the memories of their first meeting - flashes of _heat_ and _sweat_ and _bare skin on skin_ \- had clawed their way back up from the deepest part of his mind where he had stuffed them down.

It had unnerved him, and he'd only partially followed Steve's explanation about custom made footwear, basically cutting off the discourse by nervously quipping that Steve's brain must be a miserable place before stating he needed a beer and escaping to the lanai.

And then when Steve came out, handing him a beer before carrying his own as well as a clean t-shirt towards the chairs standing at the little private beach, Danny's breath had caught in his throat as Steve stripped while walking; had been unable to breathe as he felt his guts clench with something which could only be described as pure, non-chemically induced _lust_ as he watched the muscles play over Steve's naked back; had been unable to move ...

Then Danny _had_ moved, desperate to avoid being caught in an awkward moment, had walked quickly to catch up with Steve, then studiously looked out over the water, forcing himself to avert his eyes while he sensed him change into the fresh shirt. And then, only then, when he knew Steve was dressed and asked him about the meaning of 'Danno' had he turned around again.

They had talked about Danny's insecurity with regard to parenthood, and the look Steve had given him, the way he had cocked his head and kept those beautiful green-blue eyes locked on Danny, giving him his complete attention, had nearly been his undoing. There had been more there than just professional courtesy, more than just an interest in a partner's thoughts.

Danny had felt the tension rise, had felt the air become charged with electricity, and he'd been on the verge of downing setting down his beer and get up to walk to Steve to ...

The phone's shrill ring tore through the charged air, and when Steve looked down at the display and then back up at Danny again, his eyes showed his regret at having to take the call.

"That's us."

Danny had silently groaned.

* * *

During the subsequent weeks more and more of those moments happened, and Danny was coming to the conclusion that, even though the chemicals might have intensified the reaction they had to each other back at the garage, the ground work for their actions had already been in place.

There was a very obvious attraction between them.

Slowly but surely, the border between work and private became more blurred, more vague as Danny found himself spending an increasing amount of time at - what now was - Steve's place, enjoying having a beer with him, enjoying having dinner with him, enjoying _being_ with him.

The ever-increasing sexual tension between them was translated in a growing number of arguments and heated discussions, setting everybody's teeth on edge until one hot afternoon Chin marched up to Danny with a stiff-legged gait and totally uncharacteristically whispered in a fierce tone: "Brah, I'll even put a fresh pair of sheets on a bed if that's what it takes to get you two together, because this is driving me _crazy_ !"

Danny aspirated half the mug of coffee he had been drinking, spraying the brown liquid all over his desk as he watched Chin stalk out again, his eyes the size of saucers as they followed his team mate.

Had it been _that_ obvious?

"As obvious as the Boss Man's Mini-Me showing an interest whenever you bend over the main PC table," Kono had remarked dryly when he dared ask her, causing him to gag and nearly choke on one of the malasadas she'd been feeding them that morning. She'd calmly smacked his back until he was able to inhale air again, and had merely smirked at his bitten "Evil woman!" as he escaped to his office.

Danny had walked into Steve's office a while later, parking his butt on the desk. "We need to talk about, you know ... this." His hand waved between the two of them, and his direct statement had caused Steve to look up nervously, then swallow as he nodded his head.

"Yeah, we do. It's just that ..."

Steve had glanced at Danny, then looked down at his hands which were clenching and unclenching. Danny had felt a rush of anxiety, scared that Steve would launch into a monologue about why _this_ was not a good idea, about how _this_ would jeopardize their work relations. He'd let out a sigh of relief when Steve's next words proved him wrong.

"I'm not very good at relationships, and to be honest, that time in the garage ..."

Danny had grinned. "Babe, the fact that you're emotionally stunted is something which all of us here have figured out by now, so no need to explain the obvious." Then he'd smiled at the man at the desk, reaching down to touch his hand. "I also know that you usually don't 'swing that way'; despite things being a bit hazy, I did grasp that much during our, ehm, _encounter_."

The way Steve had glanced up from between those long eyelashes had melted his insides, the look a sweet and honest combination of trust and insecurity - now _there_ were a bunch of terms usually not associated with Lieutenant-Commander "Let's Go Blow Something Up" McGarrett - which seemed to be aimed straight at his heart.

"I just don't want to disappoint you, Danno."

Danny had leaned over, placing both hands on either side of Steve's face before giving him a long, deep kiss which left both of them breathless.

"You, Mister, could _never_ disappoint me!"

* * *

And now, now Danny would have to disappoint _Steve_ ; disappoint the man who had _trusted_ Danny enough to be willing to strip down his tough outer layer and bare his soul, secure in the knowledge that Danny wouldn't take advantage of him. Until this ...

How would this affect the slow but steady progress towards the obvious and bound-to-happen relationship between the two of them? How would Steve react when he found out that Daniel Williams could _breed_ ?

There weren't many of them, men like Danny, men called Breeders. Scientists had explained their existence as a remnant of an evolutionary solution in times when men outnumbered women, saying it was Nature's 'fix' to prevent whole tribes and even peoples dying out because there just weren't enough babies being born.

Nature had solved the problem by installing a switch somewhere along the XY distribution, adding some extra chromosomal information which resulted in 'breeders', males who were born with a womb-like organ and reproductive organs like a female and 'switched' gender during adolescence. Not quite females, not quite males but 'inbetweeners'.

They hadn't been around very long, scientists said, the 'fix' not as effective as Nature intended it to be, and the chromosomal aberration had all but disappeared. Sometimes, however, a baby boy would still be born with this _vestigial_ , this now evolutionary unnecessary characteristic. A bit like the _coccyx_ or 'tail bone' still present in all humans.

The Breeders born these days would usually just have part of the characteristics, either a vestigial womb, or the reproductive organs, or sometimes even just the extra orifice through which a Breeder could both conceive or give birth. And most times, these would be inactive.

All this had been patiently explained to both Danny and his parents when, aged fifteen, he'd suddenly started bleeding from his nether regions. When Danny had been thoroughly examined after their panicked rush to the hospital, they had been introduced to a very kind female geneticist who had run a battery of tests on Danny.

The end result - oh joy! - was that Danny was not only one of those rare Breeders, but in his case a Breeder with all of the accompanying attributes intact and fully functional.

It had shocked them to the core.

There had been plenty of decisions to make; operate/not operate, remove/not remove, gender change to female or not. In the end Danny's very obvious _male_ dominant attributes - even though he possessed far more gentler character traits than other males in his family - had helped decide that he would remain Daniel instead of being turned into _Daniella_.

He'd received hormone-based medication to render the Breeder attributes non-active, and by the time he had been in his early Twenties, his three-month cycle of bleeding had not only slowed down but stopped altogether. Things had been set right.

Or so he had hoped.

* * *

Hope.

Something Danny now latches on to with a fierce and urgent desperation.

Hope that Steve will not shy away from him because, yeah, he _has_ to tell him this; needs to be honest about things if he wants to stand even the smallest chance that Steve will want to continue down the road they have been traveling together.

But first, first he needs to do something else.

He needs to grieve.


	6. The blood that ties us (II)

THE BLOOD THAT TIES US (II) 

There's something wrong with Danny. He's been way too quiet since he returned to work several days ago, HQ's walls not reverberating with the echoes of his usual rants and tantrums. Chin and Kono have noticed it too, as he catches them staring at Danny with bemused looks on their faces.

Danny Williams is not himself, is just an empty, hollow shell of the man they all know.

Sighing, Steve gets up and walks towards Danny's office, stopping for a moment as he notices the far-off look on the face of the man sitting behind the desk. He frowns as he sees him sigh, a deep, stuttering sigh as if he has been crying, or is about to do so. Then he steps into the office.

"Hey." The little smile which appears on Danny's face is sweet, almost wistful. Steve can see dark bruises underneath his eyes, a sign he hasn't been sleeping well. He also sees the deep furrows running along Danny's mouth, almost as if ...

"Are you in pain, Danny? Did you hurt yourself, or got an injury you didn't tell me about? Are you _ill_ ?" Steve's voice sounds anxious, already playing several scenarios in his head, scenarios in which Danny has contracted some deadly disease and now is _dying_ and won't burden his partner with the knowledge, which is _stupid!_ because Steve will always be ...

Danny holds up a hand. "Whoa! Stop those thoughts right there, babe!" He smiles. "For an emotionally stunted individual, you do have the tendency to carry your heart right on your face, you know. I could actually _see_ what you were thinking. And no, I'm not dying." Not that he had not wished for that several times over the past few days, but no, not dying.

"Then what?" Steve grabs a chair, plunking down in it, and Danny knows he won't leave his office until he's at least partially satisfied that Danny Williams is OK. An endearing, and yes, sometimes annoying character trait.

"It's ... it's complicated."

Steve snorts. "I can do complicated, you know. Some of the missions I did, even though I can't give you the details, required precision planning, and ..." Danny grunts, the sound stopping Steve in mid-sentence.

"I never said you couldn't do complicated, Steven. On the contrary, you're about the most complicated man I've ever met." Danny winks at him, a hint of his old self shining through.

Frowning, Steve scrutinizes him. "OK, so we've established the fact that you're not dying and I'm some sort of emotionally handicapped yet complicated person, but you still haven't told me what's wrong." He taps the desk with his fingers, drawing Danny's attention to them like a cat to a mouse. Steve still doesn't like the look on Danny's face, still doesn't like the way his mouth seems to unconsciously become tight-lipped from time to time, as if he's occasionally wracked by agony.

"You are in _pain_ though, right?" The quick flash of blue eyes in his direction, followed by a little sigh only serve to confirm his suspicion. "Right. You need to see a doctor then. Have you been to a doctor, Danny?" The shake of the head only fuels his determination. "You're going to the hospital. _Now!_ And I'm personally driving you there."

As Steve frog marches Danny towards the exit, he catches him mumbling "As if you driving is a new experience" under his breath, but decides to ignore it.

He's too worried about Danny's well-being.

* * *

Steve gets his first surprise - well, _shock_ actually - during Danny's intake, when the short detective specifically asks for the in-house geneticist, blushing while he does so. Frowning, Steve takes a place next to Danny. A geneticist? So Danny has some sort of genetic condition. Why doesn't Steve know about this? Why hasn't Danny told him that, or isn't it listed in his medical files? Steve knows Danny's medical files, has read them on several occasions.

There's nothing in there about genetic ailments.

Frowning, Steve mentally goes over the many possibilities, or at least the ones he is _aware_ of, while he sits next to Danny as they patiently wait for Dr. Mallory, Queen's Medical Geneticist to arrive. When he does, all 6'4" and hulking joviality of him, Steve is surprised when Danny nods an affirmation to Mallory's question if Danny's partner is supposed to join them.

He follows in their wake, mind awhirl.

Steve gets his second shock when Danny, a very quiet and almost meek Danny, proceeds to tell Mallory that he's a Breeder. Steve has heard the term before, but he's pretty unsure what it means. The conversation between Danny and the now exited geneticist is hard to follow, as they're using terms which are totally unfamiliar to him, but he does know the term 'gynecologist' when Mallory throws Danny a serious look and suggests he'd be examined by one.

When Danny nods, Mallory picks up the phone and hurriedly starts talking to somebody.

Putting a hand on Danny's arm, Steve leans over and whispers to him. "A _gynecologist_ , Danny? Why on earth would you need to be examined by a gynecologist? What's going on?" Danny throws him a sad little smile and seems to be on the verge of explaining things, when Mallory gets up and motions to them to follow him.

Walking down the hallway, Steve tries to put things together, tries to add what he knows now so it starts making sense, but he just can't wrap his mind around it. Mallory points at a door, then leaves them in the hallway after stating that he first needs to speak to his colleague. They find a seat in the in the waiting area.

"Danny, I'm sorry, but I'm not following _any_ of this." Steve throws his partner a worried frown. "What's ... what's a _breeder_ , and how come you seem to be one, and what does all of that _mean_ anyway?" Again, Danny seems to be on the verge of explaining things when the door opens and Mallory's head pops out, nodding at Danny.

This time, Steve is not allowed to come with him.

* * *

The examination seems to take forever, at one point interrupted by a clearly audible shout by Danny who hollers that something is _Fucking cold!_ after which things go quiet again. Steve strains to hear what's going on, but the walls are well-insulated and he has basically resigned himself to having to wait forever when the door opens and Danny comes out, again accompanied by Mallory.

Danny turns around and bites an irritated "Next time, warm it up, woman!" to somebody Steve can't see, then sighs and walks towards the waiting area.

"Well, as far as experiences go, _that_ one definitely won't make it on to my Favorites List."

Steve quickly glances at Mallory, who smirks a little, then looks back at Danny. "You OK?" And for the first time that day, Danny shakes his head.

"No, Steven. I'm definitely not OK." Danny holds up a hand when Steve draws in his breath in shock, a rueful little smile appearing on his tired face. "But I will be, babe. No need to worry, OK? It will all be fine in the end."

Mallory motions to them to follow him again, and they dutifully get up and follow the hulking man back to his office, where they sit down. Mallory folds his hands, then throws Danny a look which is both serious and - Steve's not sure he analyzes that quite right - compassionate.

Then Steve receives his third and biggest shock of the day.

"I'm afraid you were right, Mr. Williams. You have, indeed, suffered a miscarriage."

All Steve can do is breathe, his mouth dropped open, his eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. A _miscarriage_ ? He looks at Danny, "But, how ... I mean, that's just not _possible_. Is it?" Steve looks back at Dr. Mallory, sees the cautious, neutral set of his features, then looks at back at Danny again, who just swallows and averts his eyes, bowing his head.

Then Steve mentally _kicks_ himself as he continues to look at the bowed head, the pained and sad expression on his partner's face. No matter how shocked he might be right now, no matter how _little_ he understands of what's going on, it has been _Danny_ who went through what must have been a horrifying ordeal, all by himself.

Steve cautiously places his hand on Danny's shoulder. "Danno, I'm so _sorry_. I mean, I don't know how or why or ... or who, but you should have called somebody. You should've called _me_. You shouldn't have gone through that by yourself."

The blue eyes that look back up at him are filled with unshed tears, and Danny's voice sounds cracked around the edges, even as he attempts the smallest of smiles. "The 'how' and 'who' part should be pretty obvious, Steven. The garage?" Realization floods through Steve as the memories of their encounter rush back at him, and he blushes.

Mallory coughs, and Steve glances at him, feeling way outside his comfort zone.

"If you want, Lieutenant-Commander, I can explain the 'why' to you if you wish." Mallory looks at Danny. "If, of course, Mr. Williams doesn't object to me doing so."

Danny shakes his head, and Steve finds himself listening to Mallory as he explains the freak decision by Nature to install certain female characteristics in a small percentage of males, characteristics which - even though all but erased by evolution - still popped up from time to time.

Had popped up in _Danny_.

And then another realization hits Steve. Not only has Danny been carrying a child - and that information alone shakes the very foundations Steve thought his world was built on - but it had been _his_ child!

Steve looks back at Danny and catches a glance, a look on his face which speaks of hope and fear and defeat and an immeasurable sadness, and Steve suddenly knows that, even though Danny must've been going through _hell_ because of this ordeal, he is still _going_ through hell because, because he thinks ...

Gently placing an arm around his partner's shoulders, Steve leans over to him, whispering. "Did you think I would _leave_ you? Leave you because I didn't _know_ \- and God knows I still need to wrap my mind around all of this, because honestly, this is about the _weirdest_ shit I've ever come across - but did you think I would leave you because I'd consider you a _freak_ or something?"

Danny lets out a shuddering sigh, then looks up at Steve, his blue eyes really awash with tears now. "Yes, Steven. That's what I thought. And I'd understand if you did." He swallows. "I'll understand if you'll still decide to just ... just leave things be."

A hushed silence enters the room, the three men each holding their breaths in anticipation, each waiting for something inevitable to happen.

Steve blinks a couple of times, thinking how drastically his world has just changed, how all his expectations - one of them never having a child of his own, because, well, because he really never saw _that_ one happen - and set-in-stone convictions of how the world _should_ work have been brought down.

Yet, instead of feeling devastated, of feeling angry and hopelessly lost - OK, he _does_ feel a little lost right now, but hey, that's to be expected - he discovers a tiny spark somewhere inside of him, a little flame that warms a part of him he has never really been acquainted with.

It whispers _family_.

He swallows, then tightens the hold on Danny's shoulders as he looks at Mallory, frowning because it looks as if the big man is close to tears himself. Steve coughs, then watches Mallory regain a hold of his emotions again as he asks him a question.

"This pregnancy, or rather, the ehm, miscarriage ... does Danny ... I mean, will Danny be able to conceive again?"

Steve feels Danny tighten up beside him, hangs on to his shoulders while continuing to look at Mallory, studiously avoiding having to look at his partner. Mallory frowns, then places both hands on his desk.

"From what we, the gynecologist and I, have been able to gather from our preliminary examinations, Mr. Williams has not suffered any lasting damage to his reproductive organs. Or to any of the other, ehm, _Breeder_ characteristics he has. As a matter of fact, he's well on his way to healing, and all seems to be in healthy and functioning order. Although we're pretty surprised at the latter, considering the hormonal regime Mr. Williams went through when he was a teenager."

Steve nods, then looks down at Danny, trying to read his reaction. The blue eyes are still filled with tears, and Steve frowns, afraid he might have said something which has upset Danny even more. He's just about to apologize when Danny holds up a hand.

"I'm, eh ... I'm not sure what it is you just asked, Steven. Or what it even _means_."

Steve smiles. "It means, Danny Williams, that not only am I not planning on leaving you, but I would really, _really_ like to try and have another child with you again. If you agree with that, of course."

It's done. The inevitable thing has happened. Lieutenant-Commander Steven J. McGarrett has not only committed himself to a relationship, a relationship with a _man_ nonetheless, but he's just committed himself to wanting to be a _parent_ as well.

Scrutinizing Danny's face, Steve looks for the slightest hesitation, the slightest sign of doubt. He finds none. Instead, it seems as if the sadness has been wiped clean off Danny's face, having been replaced with a look of sheer joy, of deep and soul-warming love.

Danny smiles at him. Then he grins.

"You know, Chin and Kono are going to be very, _very_ happy when they hear this."

For just one second, Steve doesn't understand what Danny means. How can Chin and Kono be happy about Danny just having gone through ...

Danny pokes him in the side with his elbow. "Not _that_ , you idiot. I meant the fact that we're now in a relationship."

Steve smiles. Yes, they will be very happy with that. But they will never be as happy as he is right now.

He leans down and kisses Danny.

Life is going to be good.


	7. Thou Shall Not (Dammit, Steve!)

Steve's a lousy mechanic, but more importantly, in Danny's view he pretty much sucks at giving their son a good example. Things come to a head on one of those "who turned up the oven and set the dial to Inferno?!" kinda days, and tempers sizzle right along with the temperature. Will the end result be a fiery eruption, or can they find a cool place to collect themselves again? A story of failing at parenthood, and the ability to see the sunny side of things. And of milk served with a heaping side order of swearing.

* * *

THOU SHALL NOT (DAMMIT, STEVE!)

* * *

"Owwww, God _dammit_! Jesus _fucking_..."

The swearing is momentarily interrupted by the loud clang of an object flung against something metal, then continues. Steve's attempt at abusing a certain deity's name - well no, not an attempt; he's actually really, _really_ good at it, because spending years on a piece of metal floating on the infinite ocean, away from society, away from norms, will do that to a man; will reduce his inhibitions and turn him into a swearing caveman - is suddenly accompanied by a child's sweet voice, echoing the curses in a sing-song manner as if it's sounding out a favorite nursery rhyme.

Danny's head pops out of the front door so fast, it's as if he's some kind of demented Jack-in-the-box on speed.

" _Steven!_ What did I tell you about language use in front of Kieran, God..."

He pauses for a moment, then continues.

"forbidmestoopingtoyourlevelandwere _so_ goingtohave _words_ aboutthis, McGarrett!"

Glares at the man sucking his finger, then glowers as their eyes meet. "Sulking! You're actually _sulking_! How are you considered to be an _adult_ , McGarrett? Sulking is for kids, _not_ for big tough soldiers..."

"Sailors, Danny" comes a muffled response, words sounding sloppy around a wet finger. There's a shocked intake of breath.

"Words, Steven. We are having _words_!"

The front door slams shut.

* * *

It's a warm, sticky, _icky_ kind of day, with sweat creating slow rivulets and gathering into places moisture has no business convening.

The type of day where you want to take a shower every five minutes but you _can't_ , because the effort of it all makes you sweat even more. The sort of day Danny Williams almost hates even _more_ than sticking yellow fruit on what he deems to be the best _ever_ invention. I mean, fuck sliced bread. That type of shit doesn't even come close to the miracle that is crispy yet still chewy baked dough covered with tomatoes and moz, creating warm strings that will burn your tongue but yet taste _so_ delicious when you suck them from between your teeth.

Anyway. It's _hot!_

* * *

The three of them are sitting at the table, Kieran in a booster seat so he actually gets to see what he shoves in his mouth. His blond hair - Danny's, _all_ Danny's. Right down to the way it always refuses to stay in place unless buzzed short enough to make it more managable - bleached nearly white by the sun, sticking up in sweat soaked spikes, his green-blue eyes - they change color with his mood and are obviously Steve's input, and Danny's fine with that; he _loves_ those eyes, OK? - half lidded from being loam due to the heat. His movements are sluggish, and Danny thinks that maybe he should've bedded him down earlier than this; maybe the kid's too tired to sit at the table, but then again, he seems to be OK. So, fine. They're having dinner at the table. They don't get to do that often enough, what with their crazy non-schedules at Five-Oh.

"This is _good_ , Danno."

Danny looks over at Steve, smiling at the compliment and feeling a little rush of heat, a little warm something that has absolutely _nothing_ to do with the day's temperature course through his body when he catches the lazy wink thrown in his direction. They'll have to do something about that. Later. When Kieran is safely tucked away and dead to the world, when he and Steve can retreat to the privacy of their bedroom and maybe add a little extra curricular sweat to their already heat drenched bodies and...

"Sombitch."

A rush of something cold pools against Danny's right arm, and he jerks to look back at Kieran. The kid's hand is outstretched, fingers curled as if on the verge of grasping something. The 'something' obviously being the glass lying on its side, contents - "Milk, Danno. Please?" had been Kieran's response to Danny's question what he wanted to drink with dinner - now spilled, pooling over the table and against Danny's arm. There's a dark frown pulling down Kieran's forehead, and right now he's the _spitting_ image of his other Dad. Of Steve. A carbon copy of the man he loves and who taught their son how to swim at a ridiculous young age, and how to pitch a football, and how to swe...

Danny whips his head towards his husband to incinerate him with a death stare, then turns back again to the boy, now sulking while he stares at the empty glass.

" _Kieran!_ What did I tell you about using words like that! Those are bad, _bad_ words, and..."

There's a sound coming from the other end of the table. A snort. Danny does a full body turn, almost upsetting his chair while he flings an accusing finger at the man hunched down over his dinner plate.

"Are you ... are you _laughing?!_ No, seriously. _Please_ enlighten me, because I'm obviously not getting it. Do you.." - and his voice drops down to a level Steve knows signals impending danger, yells **'Incoming!'** and instinctively makes him want to duck underneath the table - "do you think this is _funny?!_ "

There's something wrong with Steve's brain. He just _knows_ it.

It's the only logical conclusion. His brain has been scrambled somehow, most likely caused by head-butting bullets and being punched in the face too often. It's screwed up his thinking and made him lose his sense of self-preservation. Because instead of doing the _smart_ thing, instead of covering his ass and tell Danny that, _no_ , he doesn't think this is funny; doesn't think it's funny _at all_. Instead of doing that, he glances up from between his lashes and, with a detached sense of utter _horror_ , hears words come out of his mouth that are as far removed from self-preservation as Pluto is from Earth. Further, actually. And he can't _stop_ himself.

"Yeah, I kinda do. Find it funny. Yes."

And that's it. Fate sealed. Judge's hammer slamming down. Verdict given. He's received the death penalty and he's gonna _die_. Possibly die a long, slow and torturous death. Not, not possibly. Not even remotely likely. It's a _certainty_. He can see the previously brewing storm in those blue eyes turn into a hurricane. A level 5. No, no, it's gone beyond that. It's actually _destroyed_ the Safir-Simpson Wind Scale in one fell swoop and created a whole new level of its own. The  Danny Williams Unbelievable Destruction scale. And it's aimed right at him. It's going to _end_ him.

"I'm going to _end_ you!"

There. Steve _knew_ it. Danny's eyes stay locked on his while he spits out the words, pupils blown so wide by anger that only a thin rim of blue remains around them. A chill, an actual _chill_ runs over Steve's back as he contemplates how willing Danny is to actually put those words into action, and realizes that he may - no, will _have_ to - jump and run for his life. Because. Because that's actually a little bit of foam sitting on his partner's lip. His baby's other daddy is so mad he's actually _foaming at the mouth_ , and that is never a good sign.

"Hey. No. Look, Danno..."

His intended apology, his effort at reigning in things so Danny will defuse and drop down to a level that will not get him killed, is interrupted by a hiss.

"Do. Not. Call. Me. _Danno!"_

The finger of death is still pointed at him, still aiming at his face as if it's a loaded weapon and capable of blowing his head off. It actually might, Steve thinks. He's seen lesser men than him cowering beneath that finger; has seen them _crumble_ and fall down to their knees. It's a very scary, _very_ lethal finger. So he throws his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry. I'm _really_ sorry. I know I f.. messed up with the swearing thing, and I promise. No _seriously_ , Danny. Don't look at me that way! I _promise_ I'll stop doing that around Kieran."

Steve eyes the finger, still hovering unwavering in his direction. Then looks at Danny's face, then back at the finger again. And breathes a sigh of relief as the finger wavers, then slowly drops. He's actually really, _really_ proud of himself for having accomplished something even a bomb squad with decades of experience most likely would've failed at. Defusing Danny while he's in a killing mood.

And then he finds out that he was just passing through the eye of the storm, just enjoying what turns out to be a short, peaceful _reprieve_ before being thrown right back in Danny's _Hurricane of Destruction_.

Because he's stupid.

Stupid enough to throw a glance at Kieran, and his kid - _Their_ kid. He should remember that. Because even though Kieran seems to have inherited most of Steve's DNA, there's also loads of Danny in his genetical makeup. - this kid is sticking out his finger as well, sticking it in _Danny's_ direction, frowning while doing so, and he's opening his mouth and Steve knows. He just _knows_ , alright? Knows that the next words out of that little mouth are going to be so, _so_ bad; also knows that, when - not if; when. It's a given - Danny will whip his head around to their son he will contact with that finger and things will be _so_ much worse!

And that's exactly what happens.

"Fucker!"

Danny's shocked intake of breath is almost immediately followed by a *squeak* of pain as Kierans' finger - and see? Steve just _knew_ that would happen. Knew it and will have to start taking advantage of that type of paranormal knowledge as he looks to find a job with a circus or something, because his career with Five-Oh has been _torpedoed_ as of this instance, because of what he does next when - his, no, _their_ kid's finger pokes Danny in the eye. And Steve just loses it.

Loses it and just _howls_ his ass off laughing.

Laughs _so_ hard his chair topples backwards, dumping him on the ground and he just lays there. Just lays there and clutches his stomach and doesn't even _care_ anymore that he's going to die within the next second or so. Continues to laugh so hard that his face starts aching and his guts just cramp up and he just. Just can't _stop_.

Can't stop even when Danny's face comes to hover over him, one slightly red eye blinking rapidly.

"You're _evil_ , McGarrett. You know that, right? Evil to the _core_."

Steve continues to snort and sniff and gasp, unable to stop, _completely_ incapable of putting an end to his own demise as he feels snot running down his face and sweat coursing down his back while he stares up at Danny. Stares up at a face that _glowers_ , then miraculously seems to relax, and then ... breakes out in a smile.

Danny actually _smiles!_

The next moment Danny comes crashing down next to Steve, flops half over him actually, and holds him while he himself starts to shake. Starts giggling and then _laughing_ out loud, and it doesn't take long before they're entangled, holding on to each other while they shake and shudder with the force of their merriment.

"Danno? Pops?"

And the two men disentagle themselves, unlatch their limbs so they can rise off the floor far enough to see Kieran's head popped over the table's edge - and Danny instinctively makes a mental note that the next seat booster will have to include some type of securing device, because this is _dangerous_ \- while he's looking down at them, a confused and surprised look on his sweet face.

"You OK?"

Still snorting, Steve looks back at Danny. Takes in his floppy hair and sparkling blue eyes - and the red seems to have gone down some already, so no permanent damage there - and raises an eyebrow.

"We OK, Danno?"

Danny returns the look, still hiccupping slightly from the bout of laughter. He takes in the teary eyes of his partner, the way his face is so completely relaxed, his generous mouth still wide with merriment. He takes it all in and smiles and then looks back up at their little son, still leaning over the edge of the table.

"Yes, sweetheart. We're OK."

There's a little sigh of contentment as the head disappears, followed by a happy little voice that signals all's well in the world.

"Fuckin' A."

And they lose it all over again.

* * *

*NOTE* Sorry about the numerous updates, but somehow the copy&paste process got messed up and parts were missing. Please tell me if you find anything else which seems off.


End file.
